


The Nicest Thing

by PansexualDonnaNoble



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: College AU, F/M, Gen, Pining, Songfic, angelica is a sad bastard but to be fair wasn't everyone in the 1700's, angelica trying to be a Good Sister, john laurens is here for two seconds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 03:52:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17890982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PansexualDonnaNoble/pseuds/PansexualDonnaNoble
Summary: She felt guiltyNo she felt disgusted, with herself.





	The Nicest Thing

She felt guilty.

No, scratch that, she felt _disgusted_  with herself.

Her whole heart felt absent from the rest of her, a whole other part of her that currently ached with every fiber of her soul and bones. Her mind stood seperate, a witness, a judge. Her head was currently screaming out, guilt, guilt, guilt.

She wanted to vomit, but held herself together. Or she was currently two seconds away from vomiting. She wasn't sure what would make her feel less broken right now.

Angelica Schuyler stood seventeen feet apart from Eliza Schuyler. No, not from her sister, no, it wasn't because of her. From her sister's date, even from across the room, a room plagued by a sea of chatting, excitable people and far too loud music, her heart hurt and soared at the same time seeing him.

It shouldn't. She thought. This party was not about her. And yet here she was, making it all about _Angelica_ when today was something Eliza has been helping plan and organize for all of their years in college.

The annual Winter's Ball.

And yet her she was, eyes stinging as if a snake had bite both of them, pining over Alexander Hamilton like some t _eenager._

God why did she even _go_  to this. She thinks. She didn't even have a date.

Did some part of her, she wondered, _want_  to hurt her? Is that what this was? Some grudge? Why else would she _do_  this to her by seeing him this way?

_All I know is that you're so nice_

_You're the nicest thing I've seen_

It's only after someone pushes past her, roughly jostling her as the alcoholic contents of her drink spill from the edges of her cup, a small stain forming on her violet dress, does she become aware that she's been staring at him for the past two minutes, her chocolate eyes burning to his laughing form, eyes crinkling and head swinging back as his body shakes in amusement at something Eliza has said to him.

He gives her a look that can only be described as utter _fondness._  And he's so handsome in his navy blue tux that it physically _pains_  her.

She wishes he would look at her like that.

But at the same time he does, oh, he  _does,_ and she longs to break these looks down and study them piece by piece and _understand_  them.

But the time for that has passed, if the time for it had ever existed at all outside of her mind.

She could _never_ hurt Eliza like that.

But as she watches the two dance and giggle like they're the only two in existence, the pain only gnaws at her harder.

_I wish that we could give it a go_

_See if we could be something_

Why did she ever talk to him? Why did she ever have to _meet_  him?

Why did she introduce him to _her?_

She knows that's selfish. She knows Alexander is the best thing to happen to her sister. She's happy that _she's_ happy. But why couldn't she be happy with someone _else?_

_I wish I was your favorite girl_

_I wish you thought I was the reason you are in the world_

Her mouth trembles faintly, breathing in, she _hated_ crying in public. She couldn't do that here, not tonight of all damn nights.

So instead she inhales, blinking, and drinks. Before she runs into a nearby closet and breaks down. A facade building up. A few songs later she's migrated to a table, setting her heavy head on the white silk of the table. The lights are uncomfortably b _linding._ Her eyes hurt. _Everything_ hurt.

_I wish my smile was your favorite kind of smile_

_I wish the way that I dressed was your favorite kind of style_

To her credit it isn't like she's spent _every_ moment since freshman year, since the first ball, wishing for him. She's loved, she's _tried_ to move on. Summer flings, blind dates, serious relationships. She's put herself _out_  there.

Most of them were nice, great. If she had settled for one of them she thinks it wouldn't have been _that_  bad. She could of learned to be happy with one of them. Learn to be satisfied.

But they wouldn't of been him. No one will ever be _him._

She'd deal with it, she told herself. Her loneliness and pining for someone she would _always_ want could be dealt with in private, alone in her dorm with the door locked and with only the walls to watch her fall apart. She wouldn't bring Eliza into it. Eliza deserved better than that. She deserved a better s _ister._

And she tried to be the kind of sister Peggy and Eliza were to her, the _selfless,_  loving, kind that knew their sister like their own mind. And she did. She knew Eliza better than herself. Than her own _name._

_I wish you couldn't figure me out_

_But you always wanna know what I was about_

_I wish you'd hold my hand_

She thinks back to the first ball, his cockiness, how _endearing_ it all was. The harmless flirting, if it even was flirting. How could she even know for sure if the political science major even meant any of it? He's a flirt, she's not naive. And she's sure he knew about all of her money.

She wants him to have meant it. Even though it's too late she wants him to have meant it. Oh, she wants it to have been genuine.

Nearby, she watches as John makes a fool out of himself, dancing, a group of women giggling at his show. Somehow it makes her feel less heavy.

_I wish you'd never forget_

_The look on my face when we first met_

Maybe whatever alcohol was in her body was making it worse. It tastes like whiskey, people certainly were getting creative with what they put in the punch.

She was such a _sad_ drunk. And she wasn't even drunk yet.

_Basically, I wish that you loved me_

_I wish that you needed me_

Eventually, people start filing out of the exits, the throbbing pain in her head ceases with the music, she watches as Eliza says something to Alexander, before turning and heading her way.

Sighing, she lifts her body up, ignoring the emotional fatigue plaguing it. She offers a forced, exhausted smile as Eliza gets closer.

"Hey stranger! Did you want a ride back to campus? You look a bit...out of it." Eliza laughs.

She didn't deserve her.

Forcing a soft laugh, Angelica shows her the contents of her cup, and distantly she realizes she's barely even finished _half_  of whatever she was drinking.

This was purely all her own pain helping her look this destroyed.

"I'm just tired. But I can get back myself." She smiles.

Eliza frowns, as if there's something she knows she's being left out of the loop for. But after a moment she nods.

"Alright. Take a cab or walk alright? Text me when you get home?"

Angelica nods. And Eliza leaves.

She wants this night to be _over._ She wants nothing more than to crawl into her bed and cry. She feels humiliated without any real right to be. Mournful.

She wanted to be a good sister, and maybe this pain meant she was one.

_I wish that without me your heart would break_

_I wish that without me you'd be spending the rest of your nights awake_

She'd suffer through the pining. The nights spent wanting and _needing._ She was strong, all of them were.

If it meant Eliza was happy. She could do it. 


End file.
